The Music Of The Night
by Rhiana Rae
Summary: Ororo has an interesting dream, and someone else 'overhears.' A short little snippet of Kurt and Ororo. Enjoy!


The Music Of The Night

Ororo was dreaming. She must be, she thought. Something like this would never happen in her waking hours. Subconsciously, she forced herself to enjoy it. It was, after all, surely a dream, and no one could take her dreams away from her. Not this time…

"Is something wrong, liebling?" Kurt asked her, cupping her chin with his blue two-fingered hand. His voice was soft, sinfully silky.

Storm shook her head. "No…why are you here, Kurt?"

He grinned his best Errol Flynn grin, and moved closer to her, their bodies inches apart. "You know why I am here, Ororo." He wrapped his hand in a long fistful of her white hair, brought her ear inches from his, and whispered a devilish suggestion that made her cheeks burn.

"Kurt!" she said, shocked that he would be so bold, and excited because she wanted to do that very much.

"You say no?" The swish of his prehensile tail belied no nervousness on his part. He was confident, arrogant even. And above all, at the moment he was purely male. He knew she wanted him as well as she knew it, and more so. She could see desire burning in the molten depths of his eyes, could feel it in the heat that emanated from his body.

Ororo sighed, and tipped her head back to give him access to her throat. He lunged for her skin, hot lips placing passionate kisses along the column of her neck, his one free hand tracing patterns of need there. The pulse beat rapidly in the hollow of her collarbone, and he nibbled the skin before moving up to claim her mouth, wrapping his arms and tail around her in a tight embrace.

"Ororo…I have wanted you this way for so long," he groaned against her lips, and she bit gently on his in response. Her tongue snaked up to run over the ridges of his teeth, and she smiled in satisfaction when he didn't flinch and pull away. It must be a dream, she thought again. Kurt would never be so bold and passionate.

Would he?

Her mind too clouded with passion to pursue it any further, she tugged at the waistband of his black t-shirt, over his head and on the floor. Kurt's body all but rippled with muscle, bunching and tensing with control and restrained passion as Ororo ran her palms over his flesh. The self-inflicted scars made ridges that tickled her skin as she moved over them. His nipples hardened into little pebbles when she raked her nails lightly across them, following the line of his abs down to his belly button, where she tickled him.

Kurt laughed, grabbing her hands to still them. "You are a temptress, Ororo. God himself could not resist you." He pressed a kiss to one palm, then the other, before scooping her up in his arms. "We will go to bed, ja?" he asked, waggling his black eyebrows at her.

She laughed outright with him. "_Ja_," she mimicked, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. The tender place at the base of his neck pulsed at her, and so it seemed only fitting that she fasten her mouth to that place, suckling his flesh until he groaned.

Before she could do more than gasp, Kurt had her on her back, pressed against the soft leather sofa cushions. His solid weight atop her and the cushions pressing in on all sides should have caused her panic, but instead it seemed to settle her.

Kurt stroked her hair, her face, combed his fingers through her long white locks. He smiled when they were all spread out on the pillow around her, like rays from the sun. Her vivid blue eyes seared his with their passion, every fiber of her being saying '_yes_.'

He took his time, removing not even her thin gauzy robe. Instead, he draped it open and pushed her red silk camisole up beneath her breasts. The moonlight streaming in through the large window of the rec room revealed a large slice of creamy caramel skin, tanned from so many years under the African sun. He would wager she could stay indoors the rest of her life and never lose her glow. She was indeed a goddess.

Ororo gasped the instant his lips hit her bare skin. This was a sin for him. And yet he seemed to have weighed the consequences and found them suitable, or he would not be here with her right now. Kurt never took action without thinking first, and he always chose his loyalty to God over all else.

"Kurt," she said, whispering his name like her own little prayer. She whispered it when he stroked up the inside of her leg, kneading the silky flesh there with the utmost reverence. She whispered it again when he dipped his head to the soft mounds of her breasts, all but begging for his attention, and whimpered it when he slipped his hand beneath her gown to tease and tantalize.

"Goddess," she whispered, closing her eyes and relishing the feel of his strange hands on her body. "Please…don't stop."

Kurt raised wicked eyes to hers that shone with barely contained joy, and winked. "Who am I to refuse a goddess?" he said, chuckling as she gasped and her breathing hitched up a notch.

Ororo's skin was on fire, her brain melting into the same level of sub-consciousness that her body had sunk to. She was a creature of sensation. All she could do was feel. Feel the soft skin of his hands on all her secret places, feel the whisper of his hushed prayer against her lips. Even while he was making the worst of sins with her he prayed for his forgiveness. She prayed with him, for if God could not forgive a man and a woman their deepest, most secret love, what _would_ he forgive?

The touches grew firmer, the strokes longer and more insistent, and Ororo was on the point of begging for mercy.

"Kurt, please…Oh, goddess…Kurt!" she murmured, her own voice lost in the thunder of her heartbeat. She arched up to meet him, raised her hips to receive the sweetest gift she had ever known…

A loud crash woke Storm as efficiently as a bucket of cold ice water. She sat bolt upright on the large leather sofa in the rec room, alone and in the dark. The TV was still on the same nature program she had been watching, before she had apparently dozed off.

It _had_ all been a dream.

More disappointed than she would have liked to admit, Storm put her hand to her forehead and sighed deeply. The Kurt of her dreams was her unspoken wish realized, and she only wished she could have finished the fantasy.

"Oh, Kurt…" she whispered to the darkness. "If you only knew…"

Yawning, her body still aching from the dream, she rose regally from the couch, flipped off the TV, and went in search of her bed.

When she was gone, Kurt stepped from the shadows, holding the picture frame he had knocked over. It would have been more telling if she'd awoken to the smell of brimstone, so he'd taken his chances and cloaked himself in shadow, praying she wouldn't notice him.

He had been on his way to the kitchen for some of that wonderful peanut butter and chocolate ice cream Storm had shown him not so long ago, when he had heard someone talking in the rec room. To his utter delight, there she had been, a goddess resplendent in the deepest of sleep. Her silver-white hair was wild and abandoned, snaking across the pillow in a gleaming trail as she arched her back and moaned his name.

_His_ name.

Even now, he could not believe it. Perhaps it was a trick of dreams to make people say things they would never say in their waking hours. And yet, when she had awoken, she had said 'if you only knew…'

Cheeks burning, Kurt indeed did know. How many nights had he lain awake, his room directly beneath hers, unable to stop his mind from playing out fantasy after fantasy? And all of them involved Ororo. Naked, sweet, and inviting Ororo.

He shook his head, and unbeknownst to him a smile curved his lips.

Perhaps God had heard his prayers, after all…

The End!


End file.
